


Trust

by takenbynumbers



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Anal Sex, BDSM, Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:41:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27875501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takenbynumbers/pseuds/takenbynumbers
Summary: Rufus asks Tseng once, “What’s it like being a lapdog to a company that would be just as happy to see you dead?”Tseng shakes his head in amusement. “What else would I do?”
Relationships: Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36





	Trust

Tseng asks Rufus once, “ _Why do you wear so many layers?”  
  
  
_ Rufus merely shrugs, waves a hand in dismissal. “ _Why not_.”

*

  
Rufus is naked and seated at the table, his head bowed, hands tied with black rope behind his back. He hasn’t moved for close to an hour. Tseng is almost proud, wants to push that time, but won’t. Not this time. Instead, he strides over after finishing the glass of wine he’d poured himself, setting the glass on the table. Rufus jerks at the sound, and Tseng traces one finger over the padded leather blindfold and down over the bridge of his nose.  
  


Rufus exhales slowly, his back arching with each breath. Tseng sets his hands on his shoulders, pressing into the muscles, kneading the soreness. That draws a moan out of Rufus, and if Tseng looks down, he knows he’ll see Rufus’ cock twitching.

*

  
  
Part of the appeal of being around the young heir is the _aloof_ nature of Rufus. How he sees himself in the world of his own creating. Once, nothing more than another party boy on the streets of Junon, before corporate espionage and domestic terrorism took his fancy. House arrest does nothing to curb his desire for power, to take charge of what he thinks to be rightfully his. To change his destiny.  
  


The Turks are there to keep him in line. Tseng is there to spy, to report back on any unusual activity.  
  


Rufus asks Tseng once, “ _What’s it like being a lapdog to a company that would be just as happy to see you dead?”_ _  
  
_

Tseng shakes his head in amusement. “ _What else would I do?”_

*

Easily, he leads Rufus into the bedroom after untying him. Rufus rubs his wrists but doesn’t move to take off the blindfold. It’s a testament to how much he trusts Tseng not to lead him to certain death. Tseng isn’t sure that he wouldn’t. There’s only so much he owes Rufus, after all. And his heart clenches, emotion swelling – warring with what he’s doing. To have the President of Shinra, naked and blindfolded, waiting for his instruction.  
  


Rufus’ father had spoken of the might of Shinra – the dominance they exude over the Planet, bending it to their will. Of the weakness of the underlings – mere servants in the quest to greatness, the Promised Land.  
  


Tseng helps Rufus onto the bed, on his hands and knees, and places a ball in each hand. It’s always the same colour in each - one red, one yellow. That is the only power he gives Rufus – _predictability_.

*  
  


Rufus talks about his destiny like it’s something he can control. If Tseng had a gil for every time he was privy to the Vice President’s master plans, he could retire on a farm somewhere. Raise a few chocobos. Find a wife. All the things his family would have expected of him. Instead, he’s humming under his breath, cleaning bone and brain matter off the wall. His slacks are filthy, blood drying in dark brown flecks on his hands and face, itching his skin. His shirt is more red than white.  
  


Tseng asks Rufus once, “ _Pass me the acid._ ”  
  


Rufus wrinkles his nose in disgust. “ _Isn’t there an easier way to get rid of the body?”_

*

  
  
He first sees Rufus naked in the small apartment. It’s not on purpose – Tseng is bringing him his breakfast. It is day three hundred and four of his house arrest. He watches, as Rufus turns around, admires the curve of his neck, the muscles flexing in his back, and further – shapely. His ass, rounded, curving into strong thighs. Tseng sets the tray down, and Rufus doesn’t move, still standing with his back to Tseng.  
  


Rufus asks, “ _See something you like?”_ _  
  
_

Tseng chuckles behind one gloved hand. _“Perhaps you should ask Reno that.”_

*

  
  
Tseng slips the bit into Rufus’ mouth, ensuring he’s biting on it before buckling it at the back of his head. He makes sure the fine blond hairs aren’t caught and runs his fingers down the side of Rufus’ neck. He moves around the bed, stands in front of Rufus. He can see the saliva starting to collect around where his mouth is stretched over the black leather. The contrast of the black against his pale, unmarred face go straight to his cock, the way the silver rings dig into his cheeks. It’s a little too tight, but Rufus doesn’t complain. Tseng checks the balls in his hands. Still there.  
  
  
Moving the mirror takes a few minutes, and when he’s satisfied with the position, he stands next to the bed, one hand on Rufus’ back. Rufus hasn’t moved, the saliva now starting to drip over his lips and chin. When Tseng gets on the bed, there’s a small groan from Rufus, and he smiles, curling his fingers in Rufus’ hair and yanking his head back. That earns him another groan, and he runs his other hand down the column of Rufus’ throat, watching in the mirror.  
  


He doesn’t look at himself, instead keeps his focus on Rufus.

*  
  


After everyone has left – and the body removed – Rufus turns to Tseng, exhaustion evident on his face. “There’s a lot of work that still needs to be done. And the inauguration…should I get a statue?”  
  


Tseng shrugs. “Up to you, sir.”  
  


Rufus nods. “I will. Something to show that the people can still trust Shinra…even more so, under new management.”  
  


Tseng says nothing in response. He watches as Rufus approaches him and tucks a piece of hair behind his ear. He doesn’t move or respond as Rufus presses a kiss to his cheek. “I want to fuck you right here.”  
  


Laughter almost escapes him at the statement, but he clamps it down before it bubbles out of him. “Sir? Your father just died in here. Perhaps you should work through some of those…emotions, all things considering.” Rufus frowns, grasps Tseng by the jaw, fingers digging into his skin. He stares back, gaze steady, hands still folded behind his back. He’s getting hard, a warmth spreading throughout him and Rufus lets go of his jaw in favour of cupping him through his slacks, palming his cock with a kind of reverence that most would reserve for their lovers.  
  


Tseng asks, curiously, “ _Why now_?”  
  


Rufus shrugs. _“Why not_.”

*

When Tseng pushes two well-lubed fingers into Rufus’ hole, he bites the soft flesh of his buttock, hearing a muffled yelp of surprise. The teeth marks will fade, but he admires the redness, returning back to the task at hand. Rufus pushes back against his fingers, and he stills in fucking them, watching in fascination as Rufus fucks himself on them. Eagerly. He looks to the mirror, sees the swell of Rufus’ cock, precome beading through the slit, the heavy swing as he works his hips back onto Tseng’s fingers. Tseng pulls them free and wipes them on the sheets. They’re not his, and he won’t need to clean them.  
  


Undressing quickly, he pulls a pair of handcuffs from his blazer and knows Rufus can hear the clink, sees the shudder that goes through him. Carefully, he latches them onto Rufus’ wrist, admiring the red creasing already forming from the weight of holding himself up, even with the balls helping to keep him up. Tseng is nothing if not an admirer of art. And the evidence he leaves on Rufus after these nights is _art_.  
  


When he pushes into Rufus, muscles fluttering around his cock, gripping him _tight_ , he allows himself a small moan. He knows Rufus hears by the way he keens, trying to push himself back onto Tseng’s cock. Tseng drags his nails down Rufus’ back and back up, grasping the strap of the bit and yanking Rufus’ head back. His body follows, and Tseng wraps an arm around Rufus’ waist and begins fucking him in earnest.

*

Rufus asks once in between thrusts, holding up a pair of handcuffs, _“Do you trust me?”_  
  


Tseng pants, thighs burning as he sinks down onto Rufus’ cock, holding the arms of the chair for balance. “ _Never._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on twitter: takenbynumbers


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